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I 


SUNSHINE  AND  PLAY-TIME 


VERSES 

BY  THK 

Rt.  Rfv.  wm.  croswfll  doane,  d.d. 

ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

EMMA  JUSTINE  FARNSWORTH 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 

51    WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET 
1893 


Copyright,  1893,  by 
E.  P.  DUTTON  S;  CO. 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


PAGE 

Dedication,  ..........  5 

^        ■■  4^        Grace  Before  Meat,     ........  7 

  The  Swing, 

"     '  Under  an  Umdrella,  9 

Riches  and  Poverty,       ...........  10 

Up  a  Tree,      .............  ii 

Reflections,       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .  .12 

Hello,    Little  Calf,  ..........  13 

Bed  Time,   14 

Up  in  a  Haymow,        .   15 

Gardening,         .............  16 

In  a  High  Wind,   17 

The  Launch,   18 

Busy  Digging  a  Soldier's  Grave,  .......  19 

Bonfires,   .  20 

I'm  Thinking  about  a  Lucky  Dog,   21 

Pillow-Place  .22 


3 


TO    LITTLE  ROLAND, 
THE   SUNSHINE   OF  WHOSE   SHORT  LIFE 
GLADDENED   MANY  HEARTS. 


SUNSHINE    AND  PLAYTIME. 


GRACE   BEFORE  MEAT. 

Come,  Lord  Jcsii,  be  our  giicst  ; 

Share  the  tjifts  that  Thou  hast  given. 
Daily  bread,   which   Thou  hast  blest. 

Comes,  like  "  antjel's  food,"  from  heaven. 


8 


Sr.VSN/N£    A.\'D  PLAYTIME. 


THE  SWING. 

Higher  and  higher,  swing  and  sing, 

With  my  toes  tliat  bareh'  toucii  the  ground, 
And   ni}'   head   in  the   leaves,  and  everything 

Swimming  and  swirling  above  and  around. 

Up  and   back,  through  the   rushing  air. 
Faster  and   faster,  like  bird   on  wing; 

Till  the  things  that  fly  say,  "Who  goes  there?" 
And  I  race  with  the  swallows  in  my  swing. 


SCVS/ZLVE    A.\'D  PLAYTIME. 


UNDER   AN  UMBRELLA. 


Here's  a  puzzle  for  a  fellow, 
On  the  first  real  rainy  da)" 

Since  I  got  my   new  um- 
brella : 
Shall  I  put  it  up,  or  sta}' 


In  the  rain  and  get  a  wet- 


ting, 

And  a  whipping,  maybe, 
too  ? — 

Which,  though  followed  by 
a  petting, 
Is  a  thing  I  always  rue. 

So  the  wary  little  fellow 
Walked  beneath  the  silk- 
en dome, 

And    the    shiny,  new  um- 
brella 

Brought    him,    dry  and 
safely,  home. 


SUNSHINE   AND  PLAYTIME. 


RICHES   AND  POVERTY. 

What   is  the  joy  and   the  pleasure  of  Hving, 
Having  and  keeping,  or  having  and  giving? 
Which   is  tlie  better,  to   want   and  receive, 
Or  to  have,  and  be  able  a  want  to  relieve? 

Neither  is  better;    for  neither 's  complete 

Till   the  want   and   the  wealth,   in  an   interchange,  meet. 


SC/ASH/A/E    AA-D  PLAYTIME. 


II 


That's  all  well  enough  by  and  by.    Just  now  the  ripening  cherry, 
The  slowly  mellowing  apple,   the  bird's  or  squirrel's  nest, 

Tempt   me   rather  more,  and  strike  me  as  more   merry  ; 

Or,  just  to  reach  the  highest  bough,  and   look  down  on  the  rest. 


12 


S(AVS///.V/^   AND  PLAVT/ME. 


REFLECTIONS. 

What  do  you   take  my  reflections  to  be, 

Dear  little  brook,  as  you   babble  along? 
One  thing  seems  very  clear  to  nie, 

That  yours  are  uniformly  wrong. 

Trees  don't  grow   with   their  roots  in   the  air. 

At  least  they  don't   in   our  town  ; 
And   it  looks   to  me   uncommonh'  queer 

To  see  flowers  and   weetls  with   their  heads  turned  down. 

And  yet,  on  the  whole,  in  m}'  poor  little  head 
There's  a  good  deal  of  upside-downness  too  ; 

And  the  more  I  reflect  on  \\\v,\t  I  liave  said, 
The  more  I  feel  that  it 's  (juite  like  }'ou. 


SUXSHINE   AND  PLAYTIME. 


■3 


Hello,  little  calf! 
Do  look  up  and  laugh, 
Let's  have  some  chaff ; 
You're  too  sober  by  half, 
With  your  head    down  snuffing 
the  fresh  green  grass. 
I'm  young,  too. 
As  well  as  you. 
But    I    think  there  is  some- 
thing better  to  do 
Than  just  to  chew. 
Can't  you  say  moo, 
When  I  say  good  morning,  as  homeward  I  pass? 
Can't  you  even  spare  me  a  flick  of  your  tail. 
Like  the  man  in  the  barn  that  flings  the  flail  1 
Or  a  kick  of  your  heel  ? 
Come,  we're  both  of  us  veal  : 
It's  time  to  feel 
Solemn  when  old  age  makes  you  beef, 
And  makes  me  a  man. 
Let's  play  while  we  can  ; 
You'll  really  find  it  a  great  relief. 

But  the  calf  preferred  its  grass  to  Jiis  chaff, 
And  wouldn't  look  up,  nor  play,  nor  laugh  ; 
"  For  she's  busy,"  the  boy  said,  "  making,  I  see, 
Sweetbread  for  mother,  sweet  milk  for  me." 


14 


SUXSmA'E  A.XD  rLAYTIME. 


BED  TIME. 

Suckk-n  the   shackjws  leap  and  start 

Where  the  tall  trees  reach  the  sky. 
If  only  the}'  weren't  so  far  apart, 

I  could  climb  the  branches  ever  so  high, 
And  see  who  lights  the  evening  star, 
And  talk  to  the  bo\-s,  if  any  there  are, 
Up  there  ; 
And  see  what  they  do 
In  the  streets  so  blue, 
In  the  air. 
It 's  hard  to  have  to  go  to  bed 

W'hen  the  streets  are  all  so  bright. 
When  I'm  a  man  I'll  try,  instead 
Of  sleeping  all  the  night. 
To  get  something  to  do  that  Avill  make  me  stay 
Up  all  night  and  in  bed  all  day. 
I'll  be  a  policeman,  trim  and  trig. 
Or  a  bank's  night  watchman,  when   I'm  big. 
And  now-,  if  I   must  go  to  bed,  I'll  dream 
And  find  out  so,  how  things  would  seem 
If  day  were  night,  and  night  were  day; 
And  to-morrow,  when  I  wake  up,  I'll  play 
Just  what  in  dreamland  I  shall  see. 
Just  what  my  dreams  will  tell  to  me. 


SUXSHIXE   AiVD   PLAYTIME.  15 


UP   IN   THE  HAYMOW. 

I  love  the  grass  when  the  tiny  blade 

Peeps  up  in  the  April  days ;  and  well 
I  love  it,  when  under  the  summer  shade 
The  tossing  pitchforks  have  haycocks  made, 
And  the  air  is  rich  with  the  clover  smell. 

But  never  and  nowhere  under  the  sun, 

Growing  or  greening  or  giving  its  smell, 
Is  the  grass  so  fair  or  half  such  fun, 
As  when  I  can  roll  and  romp  and  run 
Up  in  the  hayloft  I  love  so  well. 


i6  SLWSHIXE  AXD  PLAYTIME. 


GARDENING. 

1  wonder  why  that  cross  old  man 
Won't  let  me  dig  up  seeds, 

And  pick  the  flowers  when  I  can, 
And  help  him   pull  up  weeds? 

I  don't  see  any  use  of  grass 
If  I   must  keep  the  road. 

And  never  have  a   right  to  pass 
Across  a  place  he 's  sowed. 

I'll  ask  my  father  if  I  can't 

Have  some  place  for  my  own. 

Where  I   can  dig  and  sow  and  plant, 
And  dig  up  what  I've  sown. 

And  that  old  gardener  so  glum — 

I'll  tell  him  not   to  dare 
Within  my  garden  spot  to  come. 

And  that  will,  make  us  square. 


SUNSHINE  AND  PLAYTIME. 

IN    A    HIGH  WIND. 

IVIy !  what  a  blow!  wliat  a  blast!  what  a  bluster! 
All  the  wild  winds  must  be  out  for  a  muster ; 
All  the  dead  leaves  whirl  about  in  a  fluster. 


And  the  dust! — I  must  go  home  and  look  for  a  duster! 
Down  go  the  flowers,  their  leaves  in  a  cluster. 
Gently,  dear  wind,  we  don't  like  such  a  bluster. 
Boreas,  Zephyrus,   Eurus,  and  Auster, 
Let's  have  one  at  a  time  and  not  all  in  a  muster! 


1 8  SUJVSN/JVE  AXD  PLAYTIME. 


THE  LAUNCH. 

Dear  little  boat,   so  trig  and  trim, 

To-day  you  shall  have  your  first  real  swim; 
Your  sails  are  set  and  your  flag  unfurled — 

Perhaps  you  will  find  some  quite  new  world. 

Dear  little  boy,  with  your  eager  mind. 

Soon  you'll  be  launching  on  life's  strong  tide 

Yourself,  for  a  voyage  that's  sure  to  find 
The  true  new  world  on  the  other  side. 


/ 


SUXSHLVE   AAD  PLAYTIME. 


'9 


Silent,  on  one  side, 
the  funeral  drum, 
Still,  on  the  other,  the  soldier  dumb. 
He  is  battered  and   bruised   with   many  a  scar 
Won  in  the  blows  of  mimic  war; 
Not  even  a  funeral  note  will  come 
From  the  solemn,  silent,  soundless  drum. 


SUA'SI-IINE   AND  PLAYTIME. 


BONFIRES. 


Up  in  the  sky  the  trees  are  on  fire — 

Yellow  and  red  the  bright  flame  goes, 

Leaping  like  tongues  still  higher  and  higher; 
All  the  wild  woodland  gleams  and  glows. 

Maple  and  birch  and  tlie  vines  that  wreathe  them, 
Sumach  and  alder  and  elm  and  oak; 

We'll  have  a  bonfire  down  here  beneath  them  : — 
My !     Why  can't  our  fires  burn  without  smok 


/ 


SUA'S/iLXE    AND  PLAYTIME. 


I'm  thinking  about  a  lucky  dog, 
And  wishing  that  I  was  one ; 

For  ni)'  dear  dog's  life  just  seems  to  me 
The  nicest  kind  of  fun. 


Here  is  the  rug  so  woolly  and  white, 

Before  the  fire  so  warm  and  bright, 

On  which  he  can  sleep  by  day  and  night  ; 

While  /  must  get  up,  and  go  to  bed. 

And  have  all  the  bother  of  combing  my  head, 

Clothes  off,  clothes  on,  forever  ;  instead 

Of  just  jumping  up,  with  a  good  sound  shake — • 

No  bath,  no  bother,  but  just  to  wake  ; 

All  ready,  as  soon  as  the  day's  begun, 

For  whatever  first  turns  up  to  be  done. 

Yes ;  a  dog  is  luck}-.    I  would  give  my  knife. 

If  I  could  but  live  "  a  lucky  dog's  life  "  ! 


22 


SUXSHINE  AXD  PLAYTIME. 


riLLOVV-PLACE. 

Life  is  divided,  like  towns,   into  places  ; 

Pleasant  are  some  of  them,  some  of  them  poor. 
Here,  where  I'm  lying,  sometimes  I  make  faces, 

When  nurse,  with  the  medicine,  opens  the  door. 
But  enjoying  bad  health,  I  make  open  confession, 

Is  rather  good   fun,   as  you   see  in  this  case; 
When   I   lie   with   my  toys   close  at   hand,   and   no  lesson, 

And  number  my  home,  "  Number  One,  Pillow-Place." 


